graham (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jake82) wrote,@ 2006-02-15 02:07:00 |
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| Current mood: | happy/tired |
| Current music: | Jeanette - El Muchacho De Los Ojos Tristes / The Coral - Cripples Crown |
abandoned jails, ariel pink, book readings, sudoku, friendship bells, fast food and romance
moroccomole's book reading before rushing over to The Echo to see Ariel Pink's live show. I somehow thought it would be unfathomably tragic if I arrived the least bit tardy to the show, and showed up only moments after the doors opened at 8:30. Rudy met me outside and the two of us waited around in the dark venue for hours, through drudgingly laborious sets of pretentious noise bands until Ariel Pink finally took the stage at a little past 1:00am. His set was pretty good-- he played a lot of my favorite songs from his vast oeuvre-- but, sadly, lacked a certain charisma as he fiddled with his incredibly complicated synth and sampling set-up without any (much-needed) assistance. At one point he invited people to come on stage and dance, and I was almost about to aquiesce, before a gaggle of slippery lip-glossed ho's took the stage and stayed there throughout the rest of his set. 
Alonso explaining the gayness of Glitter, with an unfortunate sinister shadow on his face.
Ariel Pink.
Ariel Pink & the dancing ho's.
Saturday morning I sped to Pasadena so
bebopsquad could join me in a highly daring exploration expedition. After grabbing some Panda Express (my fortune: "Happy Chinese New Year!") we found our way to the remote location of this perilous adventure: the musty, decades-ago abandoned Los Angeles County Jail. South of downtown, right next to the L.A. River and an endless succession of power lines in a shady and sparse industrial area, the building remains untouched apart from the occasional film crew that'll rent the place out to serve as any number of macabre interiors. After a bit of puzzle-solving, Bob and I found an inconspicuous unlocked door into the basement and waltzed in. 
This was the scariest room ever. There was a sign outside that said "Future Morgue" and a bunch of lumpy shapes in the shadows-- furniture covered in black tarps.
In one portion of the basement, we cautiously stepped down the most horrifying corridor of pitch-black doom, which we had to constantly illuminate with camera flashes and cell phone screens to ensure we weren't stepping into a ghoulish trap.
Looking straight up a spooky air shaft, which went all the way up to the sixth story from the basement room we were in. If only
cavemonkey42 had been there, he surely would've got his climbing shoes on.
A creepy painting discovered in an cavernous pitch-black storage room buried deep within the basement's dark corridors.
That last picture is just a sampling of the many amazing pieces of technology we uncovered... and we only really got to see the basement and the first floor before it was time to go. Hopefully I'll get to return soon for further exploration. Maybe with a flashlight next time. Later on Saturday I slugged through traffic to get to West Hollywood where I joined
moroccomole and aairplane for a 4:30 showing of Michael Winterbottom's agreeable Tristam Shandy at the Arclight. Afterwards, we convened with djmrswhite for a meal at Popeye's (my first) and a wild birthday party in the Valley for one of jest_'s dads. 
Alonso and Dave chow down on Popeye's.
Aaron contains ham and bacon. Shirt by Lacoste. Food styling by L'Oreal Mighty Mist Finishing Spray.
Alonso pontificates on the subject of Oprah.
After the party, I headed over to Rudy's in East L.A., where his sister's own birthday party was wrapping up. Everyone was drunk and Rudy put on The Emancipation of Mimi. Sunday we stayed in bed all day and watched three episodes of "My So-Called Life", as well as Beautiful Thing, and Pretty in Pink. Rudy also explained to me the game of Sudoku and we worked on a couple of them wacky logic puzzles in Star magazine. Monday I went back to CalArts for a bit to take care of some things, and meet my new roommate. After my ex-roommate David found a place in the nicer dorm building and moved out last week, the housing office gave me the choice of getting a third roommate this year, or paying $700 to keep the room to myself... now, I was sort of inclined to just live alone until May, but I ain't got no bank, so I met with Leo, my forthcoming roommate, on Monday. He seems like an alright guy-- at least well-balanced, hopefully. He'll be moving in later this week.
I drove back to East L.A. in the early afternoon and joined Rudy, Rudy's nephew, and his nephew's girlfriend, for a jaunt to the Fashion District to visit Rudy's brother at work. Rudy's brother runs a fabric firm and they end up with a lot of extra clothes that they usually just give away, so Rudy's nephew went to pick some stuff up and try and sell it to his friends. We all picked through boxes and closets full of designer clothes (almost exclusively women's stuff) and Rudy found a bunch of nice Marciano dresses and cute stuff to sell at vintage stores.
Afterwards, I felt the weirdest craving for McDonald's-- something that almost never happens to me-- and made Rudy drive me to the closest golden arch. The last time I wanted MacDo was when I was visiting Herrie at NYU and there was a Mickey D's on every block. That was when a toothless bum offered me heroin in the bathroom while I washed my hands. Before that, I can't remember ever really asking to go to McDonald's, at least since adolescence. Anyway, I got two cheeseburgers (plain, just the meat, cheese, and the buns... and ketchup), fries, Chicken McNuggets and a medium Sprite. Then we went to Amoeba in Hollywood. I bought four CDs I couldn't afford, and Rudy picked up some records for DJing. Finally, we headed over to a little venue called Il Corral to see Rudy's friend Lou play his first show with his new band.
Rudy playing Sudoku.
I kept goading him into wearing the sleeveless shirt and little short shorts that'd been part of his on-stage persona's uniform from the former electroclash-punk band Hot 'N Heavy. It's hella sexy.
Tuesday was Valentine's day and we went down to San Pedro-- a spectacular seaside town-- because I'd never laid eyes on the southern California coast since moving down here last fall. The water looked beautiful, as light poured from behind clouds in concentrated zones, setting the water ablaze with crazy sunshine. We wandered around the windy cliffside and inspected a majestically benign lighthouse. Spotted some Karl Lagerfeld stand-in with sunglasses stepping into an extravagant black towncar, vanity plate: DIVA 84. We looked out at the water, squinting at distant ships. Held hands, and I was overwhelmed by happiness.
Rudy at the Korean Bell of Friendship.
